One Less Reason to Live For
by MsNatalieCriss
Summary: Blaine lost the last important thing in his life, and it seems like he has no point to live nowadays.  Trigger warning: implied rape and drug use
1. Chapter 1

**The only thing I can say is there will be angst, character death, drug use, rape, and self harm (as of now). More things may come, but as of now in my plan for this fic, that will be the only warnings. Also, the first song in this chapter is **_**Broadripple is Burning**_** by **_**Margo and the Nuclear So and So's**_**, and the second song is **_**Shelter**_** by **_**The XX**_**.**

Blaine Anderson ran out of the old and beat-up house, tears blurring his vision and his head pounding like a drum. Not one of those drums in the marching bands, but the drums in the movies, the kind they use to show that something bad is going to happen. His head hurt like hell, but not only his head hurt. His whole body hurt. Every limb of his body ached, and some hurt so much that they felt numb. He felt like his legs would give in any second as he was running as fast as the two legs could carry him. Everything hurt, especially his heart. He had lost everything. It wasn't one of those cheesy romance movies where the girl loses the guy, she becomes depressed, but she somehow finds him again at the end. It wasn't anywhere _close _to that. Nothing could come close to what had just happened inside that dreadful house two minutes ago. He had lost everything in his life. He had no reason to live for. He could just fall down and stop breathing, and it wouldn't make a difference. No one would care. No one would even know. He let go of the one thing that still mattered in his life. And now it was… gone. _Poof_.

Finally, his legs told him that walking wasn't even an option, so he collapsed to the middle of the road, hitting his hip a little harder than he had expected, but he couldn't even feel a thing. There was too much pain in his mind, in his heart. He wouldn't feel anything from now on, until the rest of his life, however long that would last. The tears began to flow out more and more, like a river that had just been freed from its dam. He started shaking from the cold; he had no jacket and it was nearly freezing outside. He curled into a fetal position and thought that if a car were to come, he wouldn't move one bit. He would just stay there, and wait for the time to come for him. Just like his mother. _Poof_. Just like that.

But he didn't hear any cars come. There was only one light shining in the lonesome streets, but besides that, it was pitch black. The light shone in the darkness, but suddenly, _poof_. There was not a single beam to be seen for miles.

**insert line**

4:52 a.m. The time when he heard the first sound of a car since he left that damn house. He quickly shot up, not by caring, but by instinct. He replayed the past events in his head, and started crying even harder again. The loud muffled screams he could hear from his bedroom. The rush of fear that went through his body as he heard the shot. How fast he had to work his legs to get down those steps, but it was too late. Too late to save the last thing he had in his life. He tried to shake it out of his mind, to find just someway to put that memory in the past. To destroy it from his history. But it was nearly impossible, it stuck around him like an obnoxious bug. But it was _definitely_ way worse than a bug.

He walked past his house, and quickly got to his car without his dad having to see him. Luckily, he was still asleep, so he got in the car, and drove as fast as he could. He could care less if he got a speeding ticket, or if he was even sent to jail. He didn't give a fuck for anything in life anymore. He just wanted his mother back. That's all he needed in his life and he'd be somewhat satisfied. He shuffled through his iPod for a song, and the harmonica of the song filled his car. He tried to hold back his tears at the lyrics so he could at least attempt to drive, but there was no point anymore.

_And darling, I'm lost_

_I heard you whispering that night in Fountain Square_

_The trash-filled streets made me wish that we were headed home_

He pushed on the gas pedal even harder, and he was finally in a world of his own. The only thing he could hear was the pounding music, and the only thing he could see was darkness. Complete darkness. Everything was black; there wasn't a single ray of light or color.

_So pack your bags and come back home_

_And I'm wasted, you can taste it_

_Don't look at me that way _

_Cause I'll be hanging from a rope_

_And I will haunt you like a ghost_

The darkness continued, the music getting louder and louder. He knew it was his final moment in life, so he tried to enjoy the last parts of the song.

_And I wrote this on an airplane _

_Where the people looked like eggs_

_And a woman that you loved is gone_

_She was bombing East Japan_

_And don't fucking move_

_Cause everything you thought you had to go to shit_

_We've got a lot, don't you dare forget that_

He thought his end was near, but _boom_. Reality flashed back.

He was back, sitting in the driver's seat of his car, his foot pressed down the fullest he could, the song still playing at maximum volume. He was in the exact same spot as the time right before he went into his alternate universe. _Weird_, he thought. His eyes were still stinging and his face was still red from the constant, never-ending tears. He slowed down, turned the music down a little, and drove to an empty parking lot. He knew the only thing that could fix this mess was under his seat. He reached under his seat until he felt the smoothness of a plastic bag. He pulled it out, and rolled a joint out of the remaining pot he had. He took out his lighter, and lit the joint, and began to smoke. Just after the first drag, he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. He clicked play on his iPod, and a random song played. The first lyrics played, and Blaine took another drag of the joint, feeling much better than he did before. He beat his head to the tune of the song, and he realized how relevant this was to his entire life – not just last night.

_I find shelter in this way_

_Undecrcover, hide away_

_Can you hear when I say?_

_I have never felt this way_

He took a few more drags, and although the joint might of made him feel better, he began to cry the hardest he has every cried since the night five years ago. He didn't know if the pot was causing all of this, or it was the song, but the tears were pooling down his shirt, onto his jeans, making his whole body shake in rhythm with each sob that was let out.

_Could I be, was I there?_

_It felt so crystal in the air_

_I still want to drown, whenever you leave_

_Please teach me gently, how to breathe_

The swelling fact finally occurred to him – he had lost his mother. His father was abusive and didn't accept him, his friends at Dalton betrayed him, he had no siblings or relatives or pets, he was alone. The isolation swept through his entire body, creating more tears. He tried to smoke the joint as fast as he could so the feeling would go away, but this kind of feeling would live in his body for eternity. Nothing could destroy it – not even an illegal drug.

_Maybe I had said, something that was wrong_

_Can I make it better, with the lights turned on_

_Maybe I had said, something that was wrong_

_Can I make it better, with the lights turned on_

The joint had finally disappeared, so Blaine rolled another one with the last of his stash. He lit is quickly with shaking hands, and took another drag. The drug had always destroyed the terrible feelings he had everyday, but this time, it wasn't in full effect. He thought if he sucked in more while smoking it and doing it quickly it would finally end the feeling of guilt he had been feeling for five years, but nothing. The guilt stayed in the core of his body, ever so slowly reaching out to each limb of his. It made no sense. Why was it spreading?

**Insert line**

It all began five years ago. Blaine was only twelve years old. He had the most loving parents and the friendliest friends and everything was going perfectly for him. Then, he spilled the truth to his dad. It was a sunny day in April, and the sun was shining as if it was smiling at the world. That obviously wasn't the case that day. He walked up to his kind and loving father and said the two words that would change his life forever.

"I'm gay."

That's it. That's all it took for his father to hate him. The trust immediately vanished. _Poof_. Of course his mother was out with her friends for a weekend vacation. Of _fucking _course.

Mr. Anderson immediately called a number Blaine still doesn't know of, and in less than 20 minutes, a woman wearing nothing but a trench coat, looking about 20 years old came in the house. Blaine didn't have a clue what was going on, all he saw was his father and the mysterious woman whispering to each other. She nodded, and his father told him to go upstairs with the woman. He followed straight after, and he told him to go inside of his bedroom. He locked the door behind him, and the woman told Blaine exactly what to do. He was too scared to reject; his father had turned from a loving dad to a monster.

After an hour, the woman left with no words. Blaine lay naked on the bed with tears stinging in his eyes about to pour out. His father sat on the nearby chair, just staring. Not smiling, not frowning, not jumping with excitement, not crying. He had no emotion to his face.

All he said was, "I hope that changed you."

And it did. But not in the way his father intended.

His mother came home the next day, and Blaine didn't say a word about the day before. He ran up to hug his mom, crying, but he just said he was crying tears of joy because he was happy to see her.

That's when the hitting started. The next week, his father slapped his mother. There was no explanation for it. Blaine was too scared to tell his mother the truth. If he even tried, his father would hit him. Blaine's mother was even more scared than him although she didn't know why all of this was happening. After a few months, it got worse. It was a daily basis where his dad was abusing the both of them – both physically and verbally.

That's when Blaine told his mom about his sexuality. His mother was extremely accepting, so this brought a bit of hope to his life. But he still didn't tell her about that night.

A couple of years later, it got worse and worse, and still nobody even knew about the abusing. When he came to school with bruises, he said he was clumsy and ran into the wall. His father would call him a "stupid fucking faggot" daily, usually followed with a punch or slap in the face.

And that's when it really started to kick in. He didn't do anything about it, but he did something to make the pain go away. That's when he started to drink excessively, and a couple of months after, that's when the smoking came in. Soon, the cigarettes turned to joints. He was the only one who knew about his addiction, and he was shocked that his father hadn't found out yet.

The next few years went by, getting worse and worse, then last night happened. The guilt he had been feeling for the past five years finally came to its point. He hadn't told the police about that night. If he did, his father would be gone. _Poof_. But of course, he had to keep it a secret. He had to until his father had the capability to do anything – to kill Blaine's mother, the only thing that mattered in his life.

**Insert line**

****It was now 8:30. Dalton should be starting by now. There was no way he was getting near that school. He was way too high and drunk to even approach a person. But something in his mind told him it was okay for him to drive. He started his car and exit the empty parking lot and somehow made it to his house without getting caught DIU.

He saw lights. Tons of them. He heard noises. The sirens of a police car echoed in his mind. _Shit, please don't tell me that I'm caught_. He was wrong. Those police cars were headed for his house. For his abusive father. He parked his car behind the police car and just waited. Waited for his dad to come out to the window and apologize, say that he doesn't care if he's gay or not, and most of all, say the past five years were a dream. Instead, he saw a stubby policeman approach his Mustang and tell him to roll the window down. He did as the policeman said.

"Excuse me, are you Blaine Anderson?"

Blaine nodded drunkenly, and the same man said, "I need you to answer a few questions for me."

**Don't kill me. Please. **_**I **_**wasn't even expecting that. But this kind of Blaine is my favorite. I got a **_**tiny tiny tiny**_** bit of inspiration from the Perks of Being a Wallflower with the rape part, just showing how it had changed his life and made him who he is today. But I'm not sure when my next update will be because I'm usually super busy. But I'll try to be as soon as possible. Oh, also, please review! I want to know if I'm doing a good job.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm updating this way earlier than I expected. Just one thing: there may be self harm in later chapters (not exactly sure yet, but just warning you in advance). The 1****st**** song in this chapter is **_**Rubik's Cube **_**by **_**The Athlete. **_**And also, if you want to listen to music while reading this fic, the XX is an excellent choice.**

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><p><em>The police are at my house. The house that holds my violent father and dead mother. But why did they have to wait five years?<em>

Questions were storming in Blaine's damaged mind. _Why now? Why did you _just _have to find out? Why couldn't you hear me choking on my tears that day? _

But he wasn't only blaming the police. He'd be blaming himself until the end of time.

He stepped out of the car and hoped that the man couldn't tell a thing about the state he was currently in. The policeman was obviously too caught up with the case of his father.

"Would you mind stepping into the house, Blaine?" The man tried his hardest to sound comforting, but Blaine couldn't trust anyone after that night five years ago.

Blaine stood in the exact same spot, looked down with eyes of terror, and shook his head. Tears began to form in the corner of his eyes, and he tried his hardest to hold them back.

"I know it's hard, but we really need you to answer a few questions so we can get this case over with _and _keep you safe."

Blaine was never going into that house again. Too much memories filled with dread would clog his mind and he couldn't bear with that feeling again. With his head still down, he muttered, "Can't-can't we just stay r-right here?"

Somehow the man heard the soft sound that escaped Blaine's mouth. "Okay, fine. First off, I know this is a very troubling topic for you to talk about, and it might – should – be very hard for you to answer these questions. Just try to bare with me for ten minutes, and I _promise_ that we'll get you to a safe spot and you'll never have to come back to this house ever again."

_Oh, you promise. Just like Dad promised he'd love me forever no matter what happened. Just like my Mom said she'd stay with me for the rest of my life, and that nothing would kill her. _

Blaine didn't want to do any of this. He wanted to be alone, in his car, and be speeding down the highway with a song blasting through the speakers. He wanted to go to that place again. His alternate universe. The one where people didn't have to see his despair. The one where he didn't have to try to get through life, the one where he was the only one.

He should've just walked away from him, gotten in his car, and never drive near here. He could find a place in New York, or anywhere far away from this Hell. But instead, he let out all of his anger. The tears building up in his eyes finally began to pour, streaming down his face. This was the first time he showed his other side. The side that only his father knew, but would never accept.

"Blaine, Blaine, I know this is tough for you, but could you calm down for just one second so you could answer the quest—"

It had reached. The anger that had been building on top of itself for years, from his toes all the way up, and finally bursting out at the seams.

"You have _no_ fucking idea what's happening! You really don't! You can't say that you know it's tough, because a lot of shit has been happening for the past five years and you don't deserve the right to know _any _of it. I'm _sick _and _tired_ of people saying they know how I feel! Because _no one _does. No one has been through what I've been through, so just, just godammit! I'm not telling you a thing, and I'm getting away from this Hell." He opened himself up even more to the man, revealing more of his other side.

The man gasped, but Blaine didn't say another word. He ran past the man, felt the pain disperse throughout his body, and heard loud, what's-meaning-to-be-nice-but-harsh screams ring through his ears, making the hysterical tears come faster and stronger than ever. He struggled to open his car door, his body was shaking, and he finally opened it. He got inside the driver's seat, and somehow found his keys through the blurred vision he had. His sobs had become screams, and he choked on them as he attempted to put the keys in the slot. Finally, the car engine had started, growling at Blaine like the engine was _also_ disappointed with him. He pressed his foot on the gas pedal, and he was off.

He was soon out of the nightmare he used to call home. Soon out of the neighborhood, soon out of the town. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care. He needed to get to anywhere besides that dreadful place.

Blaine reached for his iPod and turned a playlist on. He wanted to go to the alternate universe again, to feel nothing, so maybe it would work this time.

_The world is too heavy,_

_Too big for my shoulders,_

_Come take the weight off me, now._

That's all it took. He was back, back where he wanted to be. But something was different. It wasn't completely black. He was still transporting to the universe, his mind not fully with the rest of his body. He was finally there, and right when he knew, a feeling of nostalgia came to him. He was in a different alternate universe. Along with the music, he could hear muffled screams – joyous ones – and a soft wind blow by.

He was in the playground. The day in 5th grade.

_Lost in the playground,_

_Late night nostalgia,_

_Open the sky for me, now._

He saw his younger self on the swings by himself, silently sobbing. No other kids were around him. The older Blaine suddenly felt the pain that the younger one was feeling in his own body. In his stomach, yes, that's definitely the spot that it hurt the most. And he felt his eyes sting from the soon-to-be tears that were about to flow out of his eyes. Then, he heard it over the music. The word that he feared.

_Oh I'm like a kid who just won't let it go,_

_Twisting and turning the colors in rows,_

_I'm so intent to find out what it is_

_This is my Rubik's Cube_

_I know I can figure it out._

He saw a kid yell at his younger self. "Get away from me, faggot!"

No. He didn't want to be here. This was not his alternate universe. This was a nightmare. But it was real. It had happened.

_This is my Rubik's Cube_

_I know I can figure it out_

The song had ended. But he was still looking at his younger self crying by himself on the swings. Everyone was gone. The wind rustled the leaves, but not in a pleasant way. It was ominous. The sky transformed from a bright blue to a dull gray. The clouds swooped in and took over the cheerful mood. No one had come out to check on him. Not even a teacher.

The image was ever so slowly fading, and then, _boom_.

He found himself back in the car, staring at the dashboard in a haze. He wasn't moving. It wasn't light outside anymore. It was pitch black. The darkness seeped into his windows, like a monster about to possess him.

Was this all a dream? No, not just the part he had just experienced. Has the whole day been a dream? Had the last five years been a nightmare?

No. Impossible. He still saw a few bruises on his face when he looked inside his car mirror. He saw the unopened bottle of vodka in the backseat. He saw the pain in his eyes, showing that the last five years of his life were a living Hell.

But that "universe" he just went to, that couldn't be like the last. That had to be a dream. A recurring one. How could 12 hours already passed with that one song?

He didn't just want that one moment to be unreal. He wished his whole life wasn't real; he'd rather be dead than living in this misery. Sure, he wasn't near the place where his unbearable memories were created, but that wouldn't stop his anguish. He was scarred, and nothing would treat that scar, no matter how much medicine it gets.

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><p><strong>This one's a little shorter than the last one, but I decided that that last part was a good ending spot. Next update should be soon, but anything could happen. And also, thanks for the people who actually took time to read this! By the way, reviews make my day.<strong>


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